


Melowyn Lavellan Saves The Saddest Puppy in Thedas

by awesomonster



Series: Melowyn Lavellan Fixes A Very Terrible Thedas, One Person At A Time [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-04-03 21:06:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4114966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awesomonster/pseuds/awesomonster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In (almost) the worst possible Thedas, one lone elf has to fix all the totally awful problems her predecessors created.  This time around, the Hero of Ferelden had totally screwed Alistair over by picking Loghain over him. Now he's a wandering alcoholic and its up to Melowyn Lavellan to track him down and give him a second chance at life. It's easier than it sounds, really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Melowyn Lavellan Saves The Saddest Puppy in Thedas

Highever had turned out to be larger than Melowyn expected and its alleyways had their fair share of the forgotten. Trying to find one forgotten man in particular wasn't an easy task, which made it all the more rewarding when she had finally succeed in hunting him down. At first he looked just like every other huddled figure sleeping off a drunken stupor down every other dark alley. The closer she got to him, though, the more she was sure he was the man she had been looking for for days. He mostly fit the description she'd been given, though he was shaggier, heavier, and older looking. The rusted shield on his back with the faded Redcliffe heraldry confirmed it enough for her.

For a time she watched him in silence, unsure how exactly to approach him. When she was certain he was asleep, she padded over to him, her bare feet silent on the dusty cobblestone, and settled down next to him, brushing her hands together to clear off the dirt. The sudden noise of it awoke him with a start. He would've likely fallen back asleep, but instead jumped again when he realized someone was next to him.

"Who are you, then?" He grumbled without lifting his head, an unhappy slurring tone to his muffled voice, "There's nothing to steal here, leave me be..."

"That's a shame," came the airy reply, "And here I was expecting to find a man of great wealth sleeping in this filthy alleyway."

The man scowled into the arm his head was propped on. "Oh fantastic, so you're just here to mock a pathetic old drunk then?"

She angled her head, shifting herself and leaning forward to try to see his face. "I'm here to offer you a job, actually. This is no place for a man who helped save the world."

"Hmph," he scoffed, "You must've been given the wrong information, I did nothing of the sort... I'm a... traitor..." His gruff voice went soft, a decade of sadness aching through the words. For the first time, he raised his head and regarded his companion. The elf smiled as he looked at her, unselfconscious as he tried to study her features despite his bleary vision. She was small and dark and freckled, with kind, green eyes that held his gaze in a way that was almost too intense for him to handle, especially in his current state. He cleared his throat, realizing he'd been starting at her in silence for too long for it to be anything but awkward, and continued, "Now, unless you have an excess of ale you'd like me to drink, leave me be. I've got nothing for you... Maybe you should go find Loghain Mac Tir, instead."

A look of sympathy rippled through her face, but she shook it off before he could notice. Better to not let him see the pity she felt for him. She leaned back against the wall behind them and tried to sound casual. "Oh, no, I'm afraid he can't help me anymore. I exiled him from Orlais with the rest of the Grey Wardens. They're likely all in Weisshaupt now. No, I'm looking for Alistair Therin. From what I've been told, I believe he is exactly the kind of man we need in the Inquisition." She tilted her head, looking him in the eye before adding with a smile, "I also believe he's in desperate need of a second chance and I'd really like to give him one."

He furrowed his brow and sat up, regarding her seriously though his eyes were still hazy. "Who are YOU, then?" He said again, earnest and somewhat accusatory this time. She grinned and rose to her feet, brushing her clothes off.

"My name is Melowyn Lavellan," she said with a small laugh, holding her hand out to him. "I'm with the Inquisition and I'd like to give you a job. Or, at the very least, a warm place to sleep and warm food to eat." He gave her a suspicious look, then took her hand, allowing her to help him to his feet with a surprising strength. She placed her other hand on his back, steadying him with a friendly pat.

"I'm not sure what I have to offer to a religious organization. The Chantry and I aren't on the best of terms, " He said once he was standing and stable, "I'm not sure what I have to offer anyone anymore..."

"You might not think it but very few people consider you a traitor," She insisted with such conviction that he even almost believed her, "Many people found what you did very brave, standing up for your principles despite losing everything. I know I do." She went quiet for a moment, then added, "And I suppose it wouldn't hurt to have a real Grey Warden around still."

"About that... Did I hear you right? You exiled the the Wardens?" He eyed her up and down with suspicion. Her face tattoos identified her as Dalish and the staff strapped to her back identified her as a mage. Not someone who looked like she had the authority to do such a thing. Her good humor faded a bit and she sighed.

"Yes, I did. They forced my hand and it seemed the safest course of action. I'm... not happy about it, " She paused when she saw the confused look on his face. "I suppose it makes sense that you haven't paid any attention to what's happened, but I'm sure you DID experience the false Calling?"

His eyes narrowed, but he nodded. "I did. I figured it was my time and I was preparing to head to the Deep Roads, finally get it all over with. But before I did, it just... stopped. You said it was false? How do you know?" He was going to ask more but she held her hand up and shook her head.

"One thing at a time, I promise I'll explain everything. There is... quite a lot to explain." She smiled once more, continuing in a hopeful tone, "I'd be more than happy to tell you all about it on the way back to my fortress? Please?" He didn't think she looked like the type to have a fortress, either.

He glanced up and down the empty, dirty alley, then down at her and shrugged. "Welllll... You drive a hard bargain. I had a lot of things planned for today, and I'll be disappointing a lot of people by leaving," He gestured around them, "Look at them all, they look so sad. But what can I say? You've got me curious. Just let me grab my things..." She nodded in response and he shuffled in a crate near the corner, pulling out an old threadbare sack, misshapen due to its contents.

Though he still had a small waver to his stride, it was clear the conversation had sparked some long dead fire within him. Once he'd gathered his few items, the two of them started out of the alleyway companionably, Melowyn telling him unbelievable stories of recent events and delighting in his surprised reactions. Something about her made him feel at ease, as if they had known each other for years. The more they talked, the more the alcohol and misery of the past decade shook off of him. He realized how much he'd missed having someone to talk to. Sometimes people would greet her as they passed, referring to her as "Inquisitor" or "Herald", occasionally "my lady", and he couldn't be sure, but it seemed to him as if she were fighting to hide discomfort behind her polite smiles. It was a feeling he had once been familiar with and endeared her to him even more. Any doubts he still had about her story were gone by the time they met up with the Inquisition troops awaiting them in a camp not far outside the city walls.

Much to his surprise, the troops regarded him with honor. It was a small group, no more than ten, and all greeted him with salutes and smiles. While Melowyn began planning the trip back to Skyhold, one of the scouts showed him to a tent he could use and insisted that if he needed anything, it would be provided to him.

"As much ale as you can manage would be a nice start," He had told her, but the scout laughed in a congenial manner and replied, "Anything but that, ser. Inquisitor's orders, I'm afraid. You'll have to take it up with her!"

The general mood of the camp was a jovial one, not what he had imagined an Inquisition camp would be like. Not that he'd had much time to formulate much of a mental image. He sat on a stump near his tent and watched the people buzz around the camp as he took stock of everything that had happened that day so far. Things had moved fast, but it was a nice change of pace to things not moving much at all.

When it began to grow dark, the Inquisitor turned her attention back to him, making her way across the camp with a bowl of stew in each hand. "Here, I've brought you food," She said, pushing one into his hands, "Lamb stew, Ferelden-style. I've heard you like it boiled until flavorless." He wasn't hungry but he also didn't care to argue the point with her.

"How? And how did you find me?" He gruffed, a clear note of suspicion in his voice. The more he'd thought about it, the more he had wondered. Better to ask now and get it out of the way.

In reply, she shrugged noncommittally. "Arl Teagan told us where he'd last seen you, but my spymaster is the one who actually found you."

"Your spymaster? I didn't realize I'd been spied on!" He sounded somewhat offended by this but Melowyn just laughed.

"No, no! It's nothing like that. She just remembered you saying something about coming to Highever. For Duncan." A small scowl crossed her face as she looked down at the bowl in her hands. "She's also the one who told me about the stew, though now I think that was less of a suggestion and more of a warning..." At the mention of his mentor's name, Alistair had deflated, his other concerns momentarily forgotten as his thoughts turned inward.

"I came here to leave some sort of marker, some sort of tribute to him... They made a statue but I brought his sword and shield..." His words were mumbled, soft and regretful and not meant for her, "I try not to think of him, he'd be so disgusted with me..." He slumped forward, burying his face in his free hand. "I'M disgusted with me..."

"Hey now," She admonished, pulling his hand away from his face and looking at him with a firm expression of concern, "None of that, you hear me? There's nothing to be disgusted by." He opened his mouth to argue but she held up her hand to stop him and continued in a forceful-but-kind tone, "You've hated yourself for far too long, for something that wasn't even your fault. There's nothing to hate and I'm determined to prove it to you."

He couldn't deny her conviction was compelling. Something about it, about her, reminded him of Duncan, though he wasn't all that comfortable acknowledging it. That unwavering belief in him was something he hadn't experienced since his mentor's death. Certainly not from his former friend, the "Hero of Ferelden". And though this Inquisitor didn't know him, he found he was unable to doubt her conviction that he was worthwhile. He realized that he'd again been in silent thought for long enough that it must've seemed strange. A quick glance at Melowyn's face told him she didn't mind. In fact, she was watching him with a pleased half-grin, her eyes glowing with delight. Ok then, strange seemed to be a good thing.

"Um, ok then," He finally said. It was probably not the response she was expecting, so he added, "I, uh, suppose I'll.... let you?" That didn't sound very good either so he added a sincere, "Thanks." She couldn't help but laugh brightly at this and he, in turn, couldn't help but smile. It'd be a very, very long time since he last had anything to smile about. It felt nice. He felt nice, despite the growing ache in his head reminding him that he hadn't had a drink since the morning. He rubbed his temple and sighed. Ten years of consistent drinking wouldn't be easy to get away from. Even Teagan hadn't been able to drag him away from it, yet in a single afternoon a complete stranger had him seriously considering it. He glanced over at the odd little Inquisitor.

"I feel like I should pray to... someone and apologize for what we did to this poor lamb," Melowyn had been mumbling at her bowl of stew while he'd been lost in his own thoughts, "Ghilan'nain, perhaps? Or Andruil..." She didn't seem satisfied with either, screwing her mouth up in a displeased moue. She looked up at him, still scowling, and asked, "Is there anything in the Chant of Light about the abuse of animals through bad food?"

He rubbed his chin, thoughtful. "Hm, I'm sure there's something about it in Threnodies. 'And as the boiled lamb came upon them, they looked on what fried had wrought and despaired'." Her face lit up with a large, pleased grin. It was clear she was suppressing laughter.

"Oh! Right, I remember now. 'The work of man and woman, by hubris of their making, the sorrow of a stew unbearable'." Now she allowed herself to laugh, a hearty one that would've been infectious if he were still a laughing man. "I think I'd remember it all better if it were food based, if I'm being honest!"

"You'd think the leader of the Inquisition would have the Chant of Light memorized," He observed, "Like they wouldn't even give the job to someone who couldn't recite it in their sleep."

Melowyn waved her hand dismissively, an unmistakable flash of green glimmering from her palm as she did. "If you think that's bad, everyone expects me to know everything about Andraste, down to what color her small clothes were," She sounded tired now, "I've learned a lot since all this began but I'm Dalish! These are not my beliefs and even if they were, I was never prepared to be a religious figure." She sighed, her gaze distant, and he was filled with empathy for her. In her face he saw the same fear and weight that he felt years ago when the idea of him bringing the king of Ferelden had been bandied about.

He felt unsure of how to respond; He'd never been good at comforting people. Fortunately for him, the cloud of worry that had settled down on her lifted just as quickly as it'd arrived. She straightened her posture, squared her shoulders, and continued, "But I represent something to people, I'm their hope for the future, and thats a responsibility I take very seriously. I might not've been prepared for it but I'll do my best for everyone..." She raised her head and looked him in the eyes. "You called us a religious organization before, and I suppose we are, but more than that we're people who are doing our best for Thedas. You don't have to be religious to see how desperately the world needs it."

"And you want me to be a part of that," He finished the thought for her. It wasn't a question but she nodded in response anyway. "I... still don't feel like I have anything to offer, but whatever I have left, it's yours to use." He paused. "Wait, that sounded bad. I mean I'll give everything I have to you." Another pause. Melowyn looked as if she was biting back another laugh, which made him feel even more awkward. "Maker's breath, I mean your cause! I am... Look, I just mean you've convinced me!" The look of mirth hadn't left her face. "Can we just... move past this and do whatever we need to do to make this official?" Still grinning, she took his now empty bowl from him.

"Oh, most people just salute me," She said with a shrug, "You saying you want to join is more than enough."

"Aww," He pouted, jutting his bottom lip out, "I was hoping there'd be more of a ceremony. The last group I joined had ceremony."  
"Well, I suppose I could make you drink a cup of blood, if you want. Though it'd just be for show."

"I guess I can go without," He said with a pathetic sigh, "Not sure where you'd even get a cup of blood at this hour."

"Hey, now! If you want a cup of blood, I can get you a cup of blood," She puffed herself up, trying to look like someone who could get a cup of blood at this hour. "Though I can't guarantee what sort of blood it is."

He held up a hand, looking resigned to his fate. "No no, its fine, here," He stood and turned to stand in front of her, crossing his chest with his arm with a short bow. She did her best to mirror the salute, despite having a bowl in each hand, and they exchanged a respectful nod. The moment seemed to need something more, so he added, "I, uh, pledge myself... to the service of the Inquisition?" He did his best to infuse the words with sincerity.

"Then welcome to the Inquisition, Alistair Therin," She replied with that satisfied half-smile of her's, "It is an honor to have you." She considered him in a brief silence, then rushed off towards the center of the camp. She returned a moment later, carrying a bottle of ale with her. "Here," She said, her voice kind and soft, as she offered it to him, "You might not say it but I know you can't be feeling very well right about now. How long has it been since you had a drink? Since this morning?" He didn't respond. "Yours is an illness that magic can't heal, so we have to go slow. There are people at Skyhold who know more than I do, so this is the best I can do for you for now..." He took the bottle from her, surprised at how reluctant he felt about it. She was right, though, stopping cold would do no one any good.

He watched her leave, noting the pleased bounce in her step, then looked down at the bottle in his hands, running a thumb over the label as he read it. It was a good ale, better than anything he bought for himself in the past decade. Even though his head was now throbbing and he was fighting the intense ache in his stomach, he was determined to quit. If not for himself, then for his new leader. She believed he could do it and he found he had no interest in letting her down. It'd be a long road, but the road he took to get here was longer and he was more than happy to leave it. His thumb popped the cork off the bottle.


End file.
